


Hate is a Bottomless Cup (I Will Pour and Pour)

by SVR



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: 4x22, ALL OF IT, ALL THE ANGST, Canon Compliant, F/F, Gen, Heavy Angst, Lena Luthor Knows Kara Danvers Is Supergirl, Lena Luthor-centric, Not an Evil Lena Luthor Fic, POV Lena Luthor, SuperCorp, season 5, seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:34:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23670871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SVR/pseuds/SVR
Summary: An examination of Lena Luthor after game night in 4x22 through 5x13.SuperCorp is real.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. We Wear the Mask that Grins and Lies

It must have been denial that got her through that night. Not only denial of what she had done, but of how her world had been fractured to the core. How else could she have smiled and laughed and sat surrounded by the betrayers she had once counted friends without them knowing that anything, that everything, was wrong? How else could she have answered Kara’s— _Supergirl’s_ _—_ stumbling “But, uh, you’re with me right?” with “Always” and really mean it if not for the denial of truths and pain safely packed away into itty bitty boxes?

Her denial held even as she closed the door to her apartment. An impressive feat for it to have survived past the lonely car ride and the private elevator. But once the door was shut and locked it held not a footstep, not a moment longer.  
  
That was the problem with packing things like fratricide and a shattered heart into boxes far too small. 

Her body slumped, the door acting as a brace, while her denial faltered and at last gave way. 

_You're not ruthless enough to pull that trigger._ Lex must have thought that he knew his little sister, assumed that if given a choice, she would always fall into the light. 

She crumpled onto the floor in the quiet almost-dark. She was a Luthor, after all.

Had he not known that she’d confronted that choice before? To decide whether killing was acceptable in the service of a greater good. Had _practice_ at it, even?  
  
It had been reflexive with John Corben, an act of self defense. It had been an intent with Morgan Edge, thwarted by a moment’s hesitation. It had been an anguished sacrifice with Jack, to trade one life for another and a calculated risk with Adam, the outcome haunting still. But every time, the same conclusion, so that when it came to Lex, despite the struggle of the act, the decision had been something almost easy.  
  
She had been prepared. She’d done it all before.  
  
She’s felt this before too. After the coldness. After the calm. The _crushing_ that leaves her unable to stand, that steals away her breath until she’s left shaking and gasping around tears. Drowning in nothingness. 

Trapped inside a box.  
  
She’d expected it to hurt. Had been prepared to face the consequences, unafraid of the person she would become after doing what a Super never would, what only the Luthor in her could. To destroy someone she had hoped, however foolishly, to save. And oh, _it hurts._ She had loved her brother. But the damage to her heart and soul that she had planned for, that she’d taken willingly upon herself, it could not in any way compare to the devastation that he had inflicted in return. One last forced exchange, one last note from inside a fallen king.

 _The joke's on you._ _  
_Wasn’t it always?

 _Your friends have been lying to you from the start._ _  
_How could she have expected that this time would be any different?  
  
 _You_ chose _not to see it_.  
What other explanation was there for how she’d been so blind for so very, very long? 

Every breath that she manages to draw is like inhaling with lungs full of broken glass and the pain, burrowing, gnawing, twisting, hollowing her from the inside out keeps growing, blossoming anew with every sob like a field in bloom. 

It won’t stop.

It won’t stop because _Kara Danvers is Supergirl._

It won’t stop because Lillian was right.  
 _You have no one on your side. You're guilty, just like me._  
  
It was all for nothing—not for nothing—for a _lie_. 

She had murdered her brother to protect a lie. 

And oh, it _hurts_. Of that, there was no denying.


	2. It Hides our Cheeks and Shades our Eyes

It was the sound of glass breaking, the _crack_ when she slammed her glass of scotch down onto the picture of her and the Danvers sisters on her desk, that brought her back to herself.   
  
She withdrew her hand from around the glass and checked the time.  
  
 _10:38  
  
_ How she had gotten from the spot on the floor of her apartment where she’d collapsed after game night to her desk at LCorp, drinking in the middle of the morning, she could not quite recall. She closed her eyes and tried to conjure up even a shred of what she must have done earlier in the day, but there was nothing.  
  
 _That’s a bad sign_. She opened her eyes and took a breath, it was slow and even, steady, calm. That too was concerning given the circumstances. She shouldn’t be this calm. She also shouldn’t even be at work.  
  
Before she’d left to go to the cabin in search of Lex she’d had her schedule at LCorp and CatCo cleared for a week having anticipated that it would take a few days, at minimum, before she could return to something resembling a normal schedule. Given everything that had happened recently she probably could have disappeared for nearly a month before anyone would have questioned it.  
  
There’s a dim flutter of panic and a momentary scramble as soon as she realized she hadn’t checked the date.   
  
_May 18th_ _  
_  
It had been less than twelve hours.  
  
Another breath, slow and even. Steady, calm.

That would categorize what she had experienced, and was still experiencing to some extent if she was being honest, as _acute dissociative amnesia._ Not entirely unexpected after murdering a family member she supposed.  
  
 _Is this what happened to Lex before he went insane?  
  
_ She retrieved the glass of scotch, downed the rest of it in one go and got up to pour herself another. Not the best of choices, she knew, but at this point there didn’t seem to be any better ones left. _  
__  
_She took the time to sip from her refilled glass and tried to use the unfurling flavors to draw her attention away from the other bodily complaints that were starting to make themselves felt. The list was substantial and expanding the longer she remained upright. The sting from too many tears when she blinked, the twinge of soreness in her rib cage if she breathed too deeply, the dull ache down her side from having spent too long sitting on an unforgiving surface, the pit in her stomach from not having eaten, the foggy, cotton headed feeling that had nothing so much to do with the alcohol as sleep deprivation. All of that she could ignore, a small price to pay if that was all there was to feel after what she’d done, but that wasn’t all. Because Kara Danvers is Supergirl.  
  
She glanced over at her desk, toward the broken picture frame that had once held a memory of affection and felt her insides twist, her chest constricting in a riot of undefinable emotions that she was quick to box away before it overwhelmed her barely regained self control. It was probably a futile effort, like trying to use a sieve to stop a flood, but what else could she do? 

She could go digging through the past few years, disassemble them, pull out the pieces of every conversation, every interaction, every word and gesture, sift through them for every lie that Kara— _Supergirl_ _—_ had ever told, every lie that any of them, _all_ of them, had ever used to prop up the illusion of their friendship. She’d done it all before. When the brother she’d idolized went mad. When other friends had proven false. When her true parentage had been revealed. And every time she had applied such methodical dissection to whatever happy memories that she’d had, memories that had given her strength, or comfort, or pride, they would inevitably be tainted and ruined and the darkness in her would grow and push against the confines of its box.  
  
She knew what would happen if she did that all again, if she pulled on even one loose thread in their tapestry of lies, how the world and her sanity would come unraveling after, how the darkness would escape and this time there would be no putting it away. It would drown her, a bottomless cup that would pour and pour...  
  
At the same time, she couldn’t just cut away the people or the pain like cauterizing a wound the same way she had in the past. This time there were too many ties to the pieces of her, all of them so intertwined, that there was no fresh start to be had at only the cost of someone else’s broken heart, and to sever them all would leave her with no one and _nothing_. Nor would forgiveness be any less of an exercise in self-destruction when it was not just one betrayal to contend with, but a thousand of them large and small.  
  
It probably would have been easier, or at least less painful, if she’d been the one who’d taken a bullet to the chest.

She pushed away the thought with another mouthful of scotch and a bitter smile.  
  
Her brother had managed a Parthian shot of such perfection that even Lillian would’ve envied it because no matter how hard Lena had worked to become immune to his manipulations, no matter that his poisonous intent had been overt, he had used the one thing against which she had no defense. He had broken her, with nothing more than the truth. _That’s what made it so effective._

And now _—_ What the hell was she going to do now?

She took one last pull of scotch, put down the empty glass and tried to corral her emotional state into something that allowed for reason around the dulled, grinding edges of her hurt. 

Broken or not it didn’t change the fact that she was smart. Cunning. Strategic. And despite how hard she’d tried, she may not be good, not really, but she was _not_ Lex. _And I never will be._  
  
She glanced around her office, memories, of Kara— _Supergirl_ _—_ and her promises, of James and his quiet warmth, of Alex and the rest of them, came seeping into her awareness, tugging at her self control. She could feel it, eroding, fraying, the longer she stayed. So she left.  
  
There was one place where she would be safe, one last refuge that had always been there after every betrayal, where she didn’t have to feel. She headed for her lab.  
  
And like so many projects before, she found the idea for her next one not from what if, but if only. _If only I had someone I could trust, who could never hurt me. Or anyone._

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for this particular fandom, though not my first ever by any means so if you're feeling generous, any comments, questions, reviews, encouragement, analysis, or virtual vegetable throwing is welcomed and highly desired.
> 
> More to come soon.


End file.
